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I have appearances to maintain, after all, now that Pavone is done with me.
8
ANGELO
The only thing remaining of Bellini is the stain in the carpet.
Victor would have had it cleaned up by now, but Pavone seems to like the reminder. I stare at the stain, and I wish I felt… different.
More relieved, that Bellini is finally gone.
Satisfied, that my revenge is complete.
But apparently revenge is just as hollow as everybody always says. I’d felt better when Al Ricci died, despite not having pulled the trigger myself.
Maybe I’d just been high on having survived the night, proud and turned on at Lucia being so competent.
Or maybe the knowledge that Pavone raped Lucia in front of her family is casting a nasty pall over everything, even though I shouldn’t care. My attempts to derail it hadn’t led anywhere, and I feel strangely useless over having allowed it to happen.
I can’t even convince myself that she’d deserved it, not even after her betrayal.
I’m brought out of my thoughts by Damien Rossi handing a glass of whiskey to me. He sits down on the sofa opposite me and takes a sip of his own glass.
I can’t read Rossi. He isn’t like Victor, hiding his emotions. He’s just quiet, which is a strange thing in a made man, let alone the consigliere to someone as powerful as Pavone.
Pavone, meanwhile, is anything but quiet. He sighs contentedly as he sips on his own whiskey, sitting in the large armchair that was clearly once Bellini’s seat.
“I should have told Bellini he’s got good taste in alcohol,” Pavone says to Rossi. “Make note of this brand, I like it. And send a few bottles to some of the capos.”
“Understood,” Rossi answers.
I try some of the whiskey, but it doesn’t taste significantly better than other whiskey I’ve had. I’m almost certain Victor’s stuff is better, but I’m not going to bring that up now.
“So, Angelo. How’s the work been treating you?” Pavone asks me. “I like how you offed that one pig. Really gutted him. I shoulda hired you years ago—you’re way flashier than Al Capone ever was.”
I tense at the mention of Al Ricci and his stupid nickname, but I paste a smile on my face too. “Yeah, well. What was that guy thinking, trying to be the single clean cop in the city?”
“There’s always one,” Pavone says, chuckling. “Someone has a crisis of confidence and thinks they need to be the better person. But they don’t last.”
“That’s because you have them killed,” Rossi points out dryly, taking a sip from his own glass.
Pavone smirks at him. “Some pigs need to be butchered young. They’re just problems if you let them get too old and complacent. Anyway, the rest of them won’t be a problem now. They got their yearly reminder of what happens when they step out of line.”
I should be having fun, laughing about the pigs and their incompetence, but I’m distracted from all of it, and I don’t know why.
No, I do know. The reason is currently sitting just a few rooms away, planning a wedding to this violent fucker.
In theory, I know that what we did to Lucia wasn’t exactly the nicest, but it hadn’t bothered me when it had been me, Saint, and Victor taking her with only a thin facade of consent. With Pavone, though…
It’s a bit risky, but I decide to ask the question that’s been on my mind since I’d first heard of the arrangement. “Did you really ally with Bellini just because you think his daughter’s hot?”
Thankfully, Pavone just starts laughing. “Hot? She’s a bombshell! But I guess a fag like you wouldn’t know how to appreciate her. Damien, you saw the vids. You know I’m right, eh?”
Rossi snorts in amusement. “Yes, she’s attractive.”
The vids—oh, right. I’d almost forgotten. The videos we’d sent of Lucia, of that first night we’d groped her. The final cut ended up being tame in comparison to everything we did to her, but it did show off her naked body entirely, as well as a few gloved hands touching her.
“Speaking of. I know you’re a fag,”—I want to slit Pavone’s throat every single time he says that word, “— but did you catch wind of what Corvi did to her?”
